


Making Friends Wherever he Goes (and Other Sarcastic Turns of Phrase)

by Malcontent_Ash



Category: DCU, World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:36:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malcontent_Ash/pseuds/Malcontent_Ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things seem to being going Clark Kent's way for the moment.  He started working at the Daily Planet a couple of months ago and he's been figuring out how to balance his life as Superman and a reporter.  Life seems to be relatively settling down for the young hero, which can only mean one thing: PLOT TWIST!  This particular plot twist comes in the form of Bruce Wayne practically forcing himself on him at the party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                “Come on, Smallville.  No matter how much time you spend straightening that thing, it’ll still wind up crooked, if I know you.”  Lois Lane tossed her long brunette hair as Clark Kent attempted to adjust his bowtie in the rear view mirror.  He gave up with a sigh before getting out of the car. 

                “I wouldn’t have to be in this monkey suit if it wasn’t for you dragging me along.”  The tall man squinted slightly through his glasses before stepping forward and opening her door.  Lois only smiled sarcastically. 

                “Oh, Smallville.  You’re not really a member of the media until you’ve been forced to suffer through a Wayne Foundation event.”  She stepped past him, her perfume teasing Clark’s super-sensitive nose.  Despite his complaints, it really wasn’t so bad being dragged out like this with Lois.  At least it meant that she wasn’t humiliated to be seen working with him anymore. 

                Yes, his first few months with the Daily Planet had been a little rough.  He hadn’t been sure that he would be able to pull off being both a reporter and Superman, but so far his life seemed to be falling in to a comfortable pattern… or as close to that as you could get as a super-powered alien acting as the sole defender of Metropolis against various forms crime ranging from petty theft to attempted take-over from intergalactic space pirates.  Yes, the life he led was anything but ordinary, but lately things seemed to be working out just fine.  In fact, he almost felt guilty thinking it.  Whenever you thought that everything was going your way, some misplaced bit of drama always fell your way.

                He continued pondering that late in the evening over a tall glass of champagne.  Here he was, standing in the middle of the most elegantly decorated ballroom of the most expensive mansion on this half of the nation in an ill-fitting tuxedo he had rented at the last minute.  It was times like these that he really missed Kansas.  It wasn’t that he wanted to be sitting in the barn in overalls working with the pigs again… _necessarily_ , it was just that the giant ice sculpture of Bruce Wayne as Rodin’s _The_ _Thinker_ seemed a bit… excess (if not utterly tasteless).  In fact, the entire event seemed a little bit… low class, ironically enough. 

                He had heard plenty about Bruce Wayne from the tabloids and gossip media, but he had no idea that the man’s megalomania could go quite this far.  The man of the hour was standing in the middle of the ballroom with a voluptuous blonde hanging off each arm.  The event had been hosted by Wayne in order to raise funds for a new charity hospital in Gotham, but that seemed to be the last thing on _Brucie’s_ mind.  He seemed to have his hands quite full.  Clark tried not to snicker at the joke he had made, but champagne managed to get caught in his throat regardless. 

                He choked quietly in the corner, praying to god that no one would see him and Lois wouldn’t have to be embarrassed by his faux pas.  He coughed wetly, finally able to relax his windpipe enough to allow air past…  It had been excessively suspicious that he would attempt to inhale the bubbly alcohol a second time.  With a quick glance around the room he finally started to relax again.  What he hadn’t noticed, however, was that during his bout with suffocation, a certain individual had disappeared from his line of sight. 

                “Are you doing alright now?”  Clark whipped his head around, shocked to see none other than Bruce Wayne standing beside him, grinning like the cat that got the canary.  He glanced back to where he could have sworn the man was standing only moments ago and back to where he was standing now. 

                “You’re pretty slick,” he muttered, focusing his attention on his drink in order to hide his embarrassment.  The man leaned in a little closer, whispering just close enough that Clark could feel his breath tickling his ear. 

                “Only where it counts.”  The perverted grin the man gave him left no illusions regarding the rather obvious double entendre.  Clark did what he could to hide his surprise.  The men in Smallville would never be so forward with a lady, let alone another man. 

                “Perhaps you’re mistaking me for somebody else.  My name is Clark Kent from the Daily Planet.”  Clark started to pull out his press badge to prove his point before Bruce interrupted. 

                “Oh, I’m quite aware who you are, Mr. Kent.  Quite aware.”  The man who had been blatantly seducing him only a moment ago now sipped his drink politely.  Clark couldn’t help a shiver from running up his spine.  He didn’t like the way the man had said that.  “I was just wondering if Lois Lane from the Daily Planet might be able to handle reporting on the foundation for tonight, leaving you with the night off.”  Bruce looked almost sadly at his now empty cup and as he did, Clark couldn’t help but notice the scent of ginger ale in the air.  He would have spent more time thinking about it, but it seemed as though the man was expecting some kind of an answer. 

                “I… uhm…”  Bruce ignored the man’s obvious hesitation, taking anything besides a direct _no_ as an obvious yes.  He snaked an arm around the slightly taller man’s waist, drawing displeased glances from most of the single women in the room and quite a few of the married ones as well.  Bruce continued to pull him closer until their hips were touching and his hand was settled into Clark’s back pocket, gently cupping his buttocks.  Clark’s hands found their way to the one Bruce was keeping in his pocket, but before he could remove it (with slightly more force than was strictly necessary) the man leaned forward and whispered in his ear. 

                “I wouldn’t do that if I were you…”  Clark let the hand scandalize him a moment longer as he considered.  “I need you to play along if you don’t want anyone getting hurt.”  The seductive lilt was gone from the socialite’s voice, and it now rang with something akin to menace. 

                “Are you threatening me, Bruce?”  The man only rolled his eyes before taking him by the hand and leading him through the crowds and into a side room.  By the time the door was locked behind him, Bruce’s playful smile was replaced with a bitter scowl. 

                “Look under the third table from the left,” he ordered, his voice now gruff and commanding.  Clark looked at him with mild exasperation. 

                “I would, but you’ve locked the door behind me.”  He raised an eyebrow at the eccentric billionaire.  The man only twitched with slight irritation.

                “Forget your secret identity for a moment and just look, _Superman._ ”  Clark’s mild amusement at the strange excursion quickly turned to suspicion.  It was clear that Bruce was absolutely certain that he was in fact Superman and he more than likely had proof.  Turning away from the man, he lowered his glasses and used his x-ray vision to look through the door.  Underneath the table that Bruce had indicated was a suitcase filled with wires and C4. 

                “It looks like a bomb.”  He could feel his heart race once he realized the danger that the party was in. 

                “I’m the target.”


	2. Chapter 2

                “You’ve got approximately one hour until the bomb detonates and around the same amount of time until people start wondering exactly what we’re doing in here.”  It was then that Bruce started to remove his tie. 

                “Alright.  I’ll go disable the bomb, but we’re not done.  You may know my secret identity, but you also know what I’m capable of…”  Clark was getting ready to turn around and head out the same way he had come when Bruce started to unbutton his shirt.  “Uhh.. Bruce?  What are you…?”  The shirt was half-way open, revealing a tight silk undershirt.  Bruce sighed slightly as he adjusted the shirt around his shoulders so the meticulously ironed material just started to fold. 

                “You can’t just head out there and get to work on the bomb,” he replied, fingers weaving into his perfectly styled hair to muss it up.  “Did you forget the little charade we just put on for Gotham’s elite?”  Heat rose into Clark’s face, coloring his cheeks. 

                 “I was trying to…”  Clark tried not to stare as Bruce walked over to an armchair and sat down.  _This is just too weird…  In the last five minutes he’s become a completely different person!_ He was lost in thought when Bruce cleared his throat. 

                “Mr. Kent, I’ve just given you a place to be while Superman saves the day.  Unless you followed me in here with the intention of having sex with me, I would suggest that you _go save the day_.”   He nodded slightly at a large bay window across the room.  _OOooohhh…_ Bruce could practically feel the cogs turning in Clark’s head.  Clark opened the old rusted latch on the window with ease and flew out as a blur of black.  _Disable the bomb… why am I more comfortable with a rigged pile of c4 than with Mr. Moneybags?  I may be invulnerable, but I think that still says something about the company I keep._

With his suit and glasses stored under a large hedge, Superman flew toward the front door.  He had one hour to disable the bomb…  That seemed simple enough, and considering the comfortable time cushion, it didn’t quite seem appropriate to knock a hole in the wall of a historical treasure such as the Wayne mansion (though he couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t have gotten a tiny bit of satisfaction).  He was hovering in front of the entranceway for only a moment before an elderly gentleman opened the door, inviting him to come in with a slight bow. 

                “Mister Superman, sir.  I’ve been expecting you.  Feel free to ask if there is anything I could get for you.”  Clark nodded awkwardly at the carefully composed dignity of the gentleman. 

                “Ah, thanks Mr...”

                “Pennyworth, sir.  Alfred Pennyworth.”  He turned gently and silently on his heel to close the door, his grace and practice at the simple act resembling that of a dancer.  Clark tried not to gawk as the man casually escorted the superhuman in a gaudy costume in with the other guests.  Instantly all of the eyes in the room, save Mr. Pennyworth’s and his own, were focused on the alien.  By the time Clark looked back to where he had last seen the elderly gentleman, he had already blended seamlessly into the crowd.  Superman cleared his throat and carefully adjusted his voice before addressing the party goers. 

                “Please do not be alarmed.  A bomb has been placed in the facility and I am only here to remove it before it can do any harm.”  Some of the younger women gasped dramatically while the older men only rolled their eyes.  This was just the kind of publicity stunt they expected from a man as wealthy and indulgent as Bruce Wayne.  Superman did his best to ignore the crowd carefully surveying his every move as he floated across the room and grabbed the suitcase he had seen earlier.  The amount of c4 was larger than he had originally guessed, but he believed that it would still be completely safe so long as he took it into the high atmosphere before the timer hit zero.  With a bit of a nod, he gathered up the case and headed out just the same as he had come.  By the time he reached the door, Alfred had already opened it, and Superman gratefully took his leave. 

                Superman could still hear the awkward silence he had left at the party as he flew from the biosphere into the higher layers of the atmosphere.  Despite bomb threats being a very common thing for him to deal with, today still managed to be one of the stranger days in Superman’s relatively young life as a superhero.  Maybe he could fly and shoot lasers from his eyes, but Bruce Wayne still seemed more like the alien here…  He couldn’t help but ignore the unease growing in his stomach as he absent-mindedly pulled the wires apart.  He could blow up the bomb like was a balloon popping in his hands without any problem, but he didn’t like anyone knowing his secret identity, especially a slimeball like Wayne.  After he pulled the third wire apart, the bomb finally exploded. 

                With his business conducted and the citizens safe, Clark headed back down to where he had left his clothes outside the manor.  He looked around carefully before changing despite the fact that he could probably change faster than anyone could see him.  It never hurt to be careful with this kind of thing, and that’s exactly what he intended to be. 

                Bruce had left the windows unlatched just as he had implied and he was carefully checking the readouts on a handheld device when Clark floated back inside.  The man showed no sign of noticing the superhuman who had just flown in the window, so Clark opted to glare at the back of his head. 

                “What do you need, Kent?”  Bruce asked disinterestedly. 

                “Don’t play dumb.  How do you know about me?”  He stood tall and threatening, his voice deepened like that of Superman. 

                “Oh, come on.  Glasses and a cowlick?”  Clark’s voice caught before he could protest.  “Clark and Superman may act differently, but it’s a lot harder hiding your bone structure and Kansas accent.  Running a facial recognition and laying it against a demographic profile wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

                “Now you’re just bragging.”  He could see the corner of the man’s lips twitch slightly. 

                “Only a little.”  Slipping his handheld into his pocket he approached Clark with a smile a little too ‘Brucie’ to make him feel comfortable.  “Clark,” he started, tugging at the end of his tie, “What would I have to do for you to let me off the hook?”  The taller man blanched at the approach as his tie was slipped from his shoulders. 

                “T-This is a serious matter.  Who do you work for?”  Slender fingers laced their way into his hair and sharp blue eyes watched him seductively.  He wanted nothing more than to jump out the windows at super speed to escape the discomfort of this moment, but instead he stood completely still.

                The hands slowly removed themselves and Bruce stepped back to check his watch. 

                “Wow, this late already?  You should really get back to the party before people start to ask questions.”  Firm hands turned him to the door and he could do little but follow. 

                “This isn’t over,” he replied loudly as Bruce pushed him out the door.  He could feel the eyes watching him as a young woman whispered excitedly to a friend.  When he caught her eye, the girls giggled and Clark could feel himself growing beet red.  Bruce had stolen his tie…  His hair was a mess… this really couldn’t have looked much worse.  Lois was soon beside him grasping his elbow roughly. 

                “Clark!?” she whispered intently, somewhere between anger and shock.  “Tell me you didn’t…”  Bruce chose this moment to step out of the room looking smug and victorious.  _Oohhh, did he hate that guy._

                “Lois, I really, _really,_ don’t want to talk about it.” 


End file.
